


Fated And Endlessly Falling

by jessebee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Apprentice Obi-Wan, Breathing room in an adventure, Explaining a thing, Fluff, Force-Sensitive Children, Fore-Shadowing, Gen, Good from Adversity, Humor, OCs - Freeform, Orphans, Possible Fluff Warning, Pre-Canon, Talking, maybe just a smidge of angst, no really, the Force works in mysterious ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 13:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: Because kids say the darndest things ...





	Fated And Endlessly Falling

 

“ _Bwen,” the little boy said._

A happenstance, Obi-Wan had thought at the time, except of course that wasn’t what it had been at all.

 

*

 

The story of Qui-Gon’s life (and thus Obi-Wan’s, now), this mission was: a mediation fated to explode before peace could enter, turned to escape and flight and regrouping. Which had become a rescue along the way, which had to led to the refuge of that house and family, the Force whispering to them as it so often did.

“How did we get here, again?” Obi-Wan muttered too softly for Qui-Gon to hear, hands busy on his master’s ankle and large bare foot, braced on the top of Obi-Wan’s thigh.

“As the Force guides us, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured.

Not softly enough, then. Shash. Obi-Wan grimaced, but caught the sigh before it escaped. He was miserably tired but he had _that_ much control, at least. “I find it odd that the Force would direct you to get your foot stuck in that animal trap, Master.”

“Perhaps not that part,” Qui-Gon allowed dryly, and Obi-Wan flashed a grin down at Qui-Gon's long toes. Almost two years now into his apprenticeship, and his irreverent sense of humor was being allowed out to play as he'd been gifted to see that his master's own was actually _worse_ , and it was _wonderful_.

Obi-Wan tested his wrapping job with fingertips and Force perception and nodded to himself: it would be enough to hold the injured joint stable. The lady of the house, partner of the lord they’d rescued and been rescued by in turn, had gratefully produced fabric and some old flexi he could use for the job, negating the sacrifice of one of Obi-Wan’s tabards. The fabric smelled faintly of fur and disuse but it was soft and strong and above all clean, and that was all Obi-Wan cared about.

Ignoring the faint itch at the back of his neck, he gathered himself to further assist, beginning to add what directed Force healing he’d been taught thus far, only to have Qui-Gon touch his shoulder.

“Don’t. Save your energies, you will have more need of them.”

That sounded – not precisely good. Obi-Wan looked up. “Master?”

“We’ll be safe enough here through the night, I sense.” Qui-Gon’s expression was his own particular blend of tired serenity and dignified exhaustion. Smudged dirt made his broken nose yet more prominent, and the gray strands in his dark-bronze hair gleamed in the room’s low, yellow-cast light. “Long enough for me to set a few hours of healing trance. I’ll be much improved by the morrow.”

And the additional supports of bandaging and boot would be enough then to have his master mobile again, at the very least. Obi-Wan nodded and sat back on his heels.

Qui-Gon flexed his foot carefully. “A good job. Thank you, my Padawan.”

“My pleasure to aid you, my Master.” Obi-Wan smiled up at him. The warmth in that deep voice and faint crinkle around Qui-Gon's blue eyes were almost as good as a hug. “Although I’d rather I’d not had the chance to practice my skills.”

“Ah, but I'd be remiss in my duties otherwise, though. Skills must be practiced to be well learned.”

“I'll book a training session with the healers as soon as we get home, then, and free you for other duties.”

Qui-Gon's mouth twitched in that way that meant he was smiling, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. Then his gaze sharpened. “Something amiss, Padawan?”

“Hm? No,” Obi-Wan said, pulling his hand back down. He hadn't even realized he'd been scratching his neck until that moment. “Just a tickle.”

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose a fraction and he nodded, and the indigo gaze shifted to something beyond Obi-Wan's shoulder. “We're being observed.”

What? _Shash_. Obi-Wan turned.

The youngling couldn’t have been more than maybe two years standard, if that; not that Obi-Wan counted himself an expert in guessing ages, even after quite a few stints helping out in the Temple creche. Humanoid-feliniad blend and so probably a native of this world, probably male as well, with light-ish skin and fur except for a thatch of dark brown atop the head, and the knuckles of one hand jammed firmly into the little mouth.

No wonder the back of his neck had itched – the child had a stare to give Master Windu a run for his credits.

[Indeed, Padawan.]

Shielding. Shield-ing, oh _double_ -shash. They were Force-gifted, he and his master, with a training bond strong enough to allow actual words sometimes but it wasn’t always a good thing. Especially when he was tired enough to fall asleep where he sat.

Obi-Wan winced internally, but Qui-Gon's mental chuckle was warm. [Not to worry. I was keeping watch while you were working, but call it a lesson in staying aware.]

[Yes, Master.] Obi-Wan squinted at the tiny figure. “Youngest member of the household?”

“Perhaps, although he doesn't much resemble our hosts,” Qui-Gon said as the youngling toddled toward them. “Greetings, little one,” he rumbled as the child reached them. “Have you come to say hello?”

Obi-Wan wasn't much surprised at the visitation, young ones of all species and sizes tended to flock to his master anyway. There was something very reassuring about Qui-Gon Jinn, despite his size. Or maybe because of it – Force knew Obi-Wan had always found it so.

He _was_ surprised when the child's actual destination came clear. Small hands landed on Obi-Wan’s ribs and arm and Obi-Wan caught the child without thinking, his own hands steadying the little torso. Large eyes, oblong pupils in irises the color of old honey, stared up at him, oddly intent.

“You’re being evaluated, I think, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon sounded amused.

“For what, is the question,” Obi-Wan replied absently, his attention on the child. Because there was something, something … oh. Oh. [Master, he’s Force-sensitive.]

[Yes he is. Good catch, Pa – ]

“Ooobb!”

Obi-Wan blinked.

“Ooo,” the youngling repeated, and again, before it moved on to producing more sounds like bubbles, eyes wide and earnest.

“For your name, perhaps?” Qui-Gon suggested, leaning closer, his cloak brushing Obi-Wan’s arm. It smelled of sweat and night air and that comfortingly familiar Qui-Gon scent, and a hint of pain. “O-bi-Wan,” he said to the child, drawing out the sounds.

The youngling looked up at the Jedi Master, soft mouth parted, and Obi-Wan watched, bemused, as Qui-Gon repeated Obi-wan's name, just as slowly. Tiny lips moved as if trying to follow along, and a look of intense concentration crimped the little face.

“O-bi-Wan.” Again in his master’s rich voice.

More bubble sounds, then –

“B-wan. Bwen!” The second time was a crow, triumphant. Little hands lifted and then grabbed Obi-Wan's arm. “Bwen!”

Qui-Gon’s chuckled warmly. “It seems he’s decided on your name for you.”

Not one with dignity fitting a Jedi Knight, though. Obi-Wan pursed his mouth. Maybe it would get through if it came from the owner. “Obi-Wan,” he said, soft and distinct.

Old-honey-colored eyes fixed on him, pupils widening at the sides and emphasizing the child’s feliniad ancestry. “Bwen,” the high little voice insisted. “Ben!”

Accompanied by a pushy little burst of the Force.

Obi-Wan twitched and blinked, this time. Hundred little gods. Had this youngling just – ?

“Well,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan looked up and found his master’s expression somewhere between surprised and amused. “Most definitely Force-sensitive.”

“This is why we're here,” Obi-Wan said. Warmth filled him suddenly. “This is why I've just wrapped your ankle,” he could not resist adding. The look his master bent on him for that was priceless, and Obi-Wan couldn't stop his grin. “I am corrected, Master: the Will of the Force indeed.”

“So it would seem, Padawan.”

“And therrre is a miracle,” a soft voice said from the doorway.

Obi-Wan looked up to see the slender form emerge from shadow; most of the home’s lights had been kept off both to save energy and provide less of a target.

“Lady Vei?” Qui-Gon asked.

The house-holder sank down into a tired, graceful pile at Obi-Wan’s side. “He spoke, Master Jinn. And he does not. Tarrl … does not let himself be even seen by my family much of the time, neverrr mind speak, but with you, he has done both.” Her expression was one of weariness, yet wonder, shining in her pale blue eyes. “Are you being a nuisance, Tarrlee?” she murmured, smoothing a tuft of unruly brown fur.

“Bwen!” the child – Tarrl – insisted again, twisting to grin wide-mouthed and sharp-toothed at her, and again there was that little burst of Force.

Lady Vei smiled back at the child, even as she looked at Obi-Wan.

“He is no nuisance at all, my lady, but he has apparently decided to rename me,” Obi-Wan said, with a little bow of his head.

“He is not of your family, Lady, if I may so inquire?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Not of my litter nor my blood clan, no,” Lady Vei said, still smoothing the child's fur. Her fingers were as moving shadows, her body-fur as dark as the little boy’s was light. “Tarrl m'Seh, son of ourrr friends and clan-holders to the south. When the outliers came to burn the first time, they were caught and the clan house destroyed, my friends and their dependents destroyed and scattered. We found Tarrl only by chance, beneath the wreckage. It was as though the searchers were directed therrre, to find him sheltering in what had once been a hall storage, I am told.”

Directed. Obi-Wan shared a look with his master.

“I have done all I can think to do, but Tarrl remains only a shy presence here, eating – although we rarely see him do it – and speaking almost neverrr. Until now.” Lady Vei looked up at Qui-Gon. “He is – like you, I think now, yes? He has your 'Force.'”

“The Force is everywhere, Lady Vei, but yes, he does feel it,” Qui-Gon said. “My apprentice and I just felt his small use of it a moment ago. I suspect that influenced the fact that your searchers found him at all.”

The Lady made the softly hissing sigh of her species. Tarrl had lost interest in her pettings apparently and was back to his bubble-blowing sounds, patting Obi-Wan's arm in-between repeating the name the child had chosen for him. Obi-Wan watched, and the child looked up again. “Ben,” Tarrl said firmly, in that way of the very young and the very stubborn. And yawned widely.

Reality shifted on him and the child's voice became another, older one, the accent strange –

“You will take him, then?” Lady Vei’s words snapped Obi-Wan back into the Moment.

“We two cannot at present, Lady, the situation being what it is,” Qui-Gon replied. “We shall need to move tomorrow, very quickly, and I would not put the child in more danger. But I will contact the Order as soon as I can safely do so, and other Jedi will come for Tarrl. They will test him, but I have no doubt they will find him as wonderful of a little treasure as Obi-Wan and I have.” Qui-Gon reached down and stroked Tarrl’s arm lightly, his face soft in a way Obi-Wan had rarely seen in public. “Will you, can you shelter him until then?”

“Of course, Masterrr Jinn. My honor and pleasure and that of my house to assist the Jedi, even if some misguided beings on this planet do not see things so. Shall we go and have a sleep now, Tarrlee?” the Lady asked softly, gathering the child, who had yawned again, closer to her. “And leave these good Jedi to their rrrest?”

“Bwen,” Tarrl said, arm out and fingers wide as if he'd give Obi-Wan a last pat to seal the deal, and impulsively Obi-Wan reached out and caught the tiny hand across his own. Nails scratched lightly over his palm, and Lady and youngling rose and vanished into the dim hall, leaving a whiff of sweetsmoke and damp fur.

Huh.

“I like it.”

“Master?”

Qui-Gon was looking at him when Obi-Wan turned, deep blue eyes considering. “Your new name. Something about it fits you.”

It did? Obi-Wan's brow furrowed.

Qui-Gon tilted his head, and a hank of hair slithered along his shoulder, gray strands flashing, turning briefly flame-gold in the light. “Not to your taste, Padawan?”

“It's very … ” What was the word he wanted? “Short.”

His Master chuffed, the edges of his mouth twitching. “It is that. Still, I like it.” Teasingly, “perhaps I shall use it. As a reminder to trust in the Force, as well.”

Oh? Well. But if Qui-Gon actually _liked_ it? “A condition though, Master, if you please? Only between us? In private?” Because if anybody else heard the thing …

Qui-Gon nodded, that almost-smile warming his eyes, bright with humor and – something. “Agreed. It will be our secret then, Ben Kenobi.”

A secret thing, just between he and his Master – that didn't sound so bad. A private affection that only they two would know … Obi-Wan smiled back.

Actually, that sounded rather nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wondered how anybody ever got Ben out of Obi-Wan, and I was feeling a little melancholic as well. Many thanks as always to culturevulture73 and sanerontheinside, you guys be awesome :-)


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